Dangers of Wearing Pleather

07 Oct 2010

i have never really been “normal”, exactly, which i don’t mind. it’s made me who i am today–successful.

HOWEVER, if i had to go back in time and change a few things, i probably would. one of those things being… not wearing rugrats apparel to school past the age of 10 (rugrats t-shirts and daisy dukes do not make friends in middle OR high school). another would probably be my choice to wear shiny, pleather pants to school on a semi-regular basis. the ones where you can actually see your reflection in them because A) they’re that shiny, and B) they’re that tight.

not only did i dress like a toys-r-us hooker, i didn’t even realize it (i actually thought my clothes were “neat”), which means i was that oblivious. i blame this partly on the fact that i never participated in anything team-related in my entire life (to, perhaps, learn something from the other kids), minus girl scouts (does that even count?). and even then, i stuck like glue to my best friend becky. well, and P.E. class, but usually team sports in P.E. sent me straight to the bench because my ashthma kicked my ass.

i did not socialize well until the 11th grade. sorta.

while being a loner is mostly how i ended up in computers in the first place, the results of my social ineptness stretched far and wide. and people who knew (like it was hard to tell) took advantage of that.

one instance being in the school cafeteria in 10th grade. this was the week during which i decided i would wear ONLY pink clothing, every day, all day, for the whole week. i was less than awesome, but at the time i thought it was brilliant. it was A CHALLENGE.

i was sitting in the cafeteria eating, and this boy tapped me on my back. he handed me a note and told me it was from his friend (oh, how simple things were back then). he pointed to his friend, and i immediately recognized him. i had a very small crush on him. but, back then, my crushes lasted for hours at a time. it was sick. anyway, i read the note. he said he wanted to be my boyfriend. i was ecstatic. i was showing the note to everyone at the table, i was so impressed with myself. he was a year older, and this was like… you know, the biggest deal ever.

it wasn’t until a few minutes later when another girl at our table pointed to the bottom of the note, which had in small but very legible print, “just kidding”.

my face turned red. my heart sank. i never spoke to the asshole for the rest of high school. i didn’t cry, but i think that was partly because i was so mad.

now, the REALLY sad part is, this happened 2 times. with 2 different boys.

if you take anything from this story, it’s to warn your daughters of rogue note-passing and the dangers of wearing pleather before you’re 18.